


the god tied to your bed

by kuillsins (EykielAfterDark)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Bottom Shiro, Light BDSM, Multi, Orgasm Denial, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Insert, Toys, Vibrators, drabble style, shiro centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EykielAfterDark/pseuds/kuillsins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know you want to ravage me, sir. Whip me and then fuck me with that ribbed vibrator you were telling me about. Make me scream. I want to feel it.” </p><p>“Huh.” You raise the whip and Shiro closes his eyes, bracing himself for it. “Fine by me.” </p><p>-</p><p>This started off as an Escort AU but now it's just gratuitous porn. YUP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the god tied to your bed

**Author's Note:**

> this is all micah, beck, and kai's faults. 
> 
> this started as a drabble at 8am but now....... i mean it's not the worst thing that could happen BUT STILL gods i'm so sorry shiro
> 
>  
> 
>  **Feel free to imagine any character in place of 'you'**.

You have a god tied to your bed.

He is bound by intangible ropes, by sheer force of willpower alone, by pleasure and pain and because you will punish him if he disobeys.

You bounce the handle of the whip in your palm. Shiro, sensitive now to every tiny movement, hears and tenses in anticipation. You don’t miss the tiny tremble that shakes his knee.

“Count aloud for me, baby.”

“Yes sir,” murmurs Shiro, then grunts as another blow lands. “Sixteen… Sixteen, sir.”

“Good.”

You run your hand across Shiro’s warm flesh briefly, feeling the warmth of his blood racing under his skin before you flay into him again. This time when the whip falls he actually rewards you with a garbled moan. Another red line opens across the seat of his ass and his flesh twitches, involuntarily, reacting to the harsh blossom of pain on a carnal level.

After the worst of the pain has passed he sags against the bed, exhausted, wrestling with the slow throb of remnant pain.

"Shiro, baby, I love the sounds you make but aren't you forgetting something?"

Your observation is casual, light, flippant, almost. the combination of severe pain and easy dominance makes Shiro's hips stutter slightly. A guilty flush spreads across his face. You make a mental note to punish him for _that._ But later.

"Se... seventeen," he rasps. "Thank you, s-sir." His voice is wrecked, pulled taut by the blinding pain, but hoarse in the only way he sounds when he's drowning in an overwhelming deluge of pleasure.

Slowly, you sit on the bed and he cranes his head up to look at you. He's got his puppy eyes on, now constantly pleading _more, more, more._ Sweat beads on his fine skin, stinging the lashes across his marbled back, Giving him an almost delicious sheen. his eyelids slide half closed when you run a gentle touch through the shock of white hair on his head.

"You're doing so good for me, Shiro. Can you take the last three lashes for me?"

Shiro's deep, pensive gaze turns glassy for a while, the man visibly turning over the idea that he still has more of this pain to endure. But eventually, as he always does, this beautiful gentle giant refocuses his tired gaze on you and smiles up at you like you are the only miracle in this world he dares to believe in.

"Yes, sir."

Shiro's knuckles tighten in the sheets, bracing himself. You stand because you love him, and because he loves you and everything you dish out to him.

"Please punish me."

“With pleasure, Shiro. Moan for me, baby. Let me hear every little sound you make.”

Air splits and Shiro arches off the bed. Under him, there is a telltale wet spot on the sheet. “A-ah! Eighteen, sir. Thank y — _augh —_ Nineteen, sir. Thank you sir.”

You take aim, mentally raking the last line across his back, take little practice snaps of your wrist to prepare. You want a long, clear, clean mark, just one — toeing the edge of Shiro’s soft limits. The lower back is a sensitive place but there’s nothing more satisfying than a single lash stretching from shoulder to ass, so long that Shiro will feel every inch of it for days.

The idea of Shiro going about his daily life, inwardly wrestling with the memories of this dirty night in this too-good hotel room, rutting against the sheets and degrading himself all for you, thrills you to your core.

“Last one, baby.”

“Please,” whimpers Shiro, neither of you know for sure if it’s a plea or a protest or both at once, but it isn’t _red_ so you have all the license to continue. A wet trail runs down his cheek. You thumb away the tear and press a gentle kiss to his sweaty undercut before pulling away.

“Please what?”

Your voice seems to clear something in his head. He turns to give you a tired smirk, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. “Please whip me sir, like the good little slut I am. Make me moan for you.”

Damn it, Shiro. He knows how the dirty talk gets you going, especially when it comes from someone like him. You level a mock frown his way but he continues, slyly, goading you on.

“You know you want to ravage me, sir. Whip me and then fuck me with that ribbed vibrator you were telling me about. Make me scream. I want to feel it.”

“Huh.” You raise the whip and Shiro closes his eyes, bracing himself for it. “Fine by me.”

The final lash comes down harder than all the others and Shiro _does_ scream. He tightens into himself so fiercely that the sheets are tugged from under the bed and it creaks in protest. Shiro groans as he rides the lightning snap of pain, then slowly lets it ease him back down. You wait, patiently, watching him slowly untense every muscle, testing himself, slowly coming back to his body.

“Twenty, sir. Thank you.” When it finally comes it is a little too genuine and you sit again, slightly alarmed in case something went wrong. You push the wet hair out of his eyes, stroke his cheek softly.

Oblivious to your concern, the newest lash across Shiro’s back is slowly turning red, the barest of lines becoming evident all the way down his heaving back.

“Shiro, you alright? Talk to me.”

“Yeah.” Shiro opens an eye and smiles slightly. “I’m good. Just kinda overwhelmed… but good.”

“Good.” You give him a smile of your own, too — and Shiro’s fades. Oh yes. He recognises this smile. The one that screams _the fun isn’t over just yet, baby._ “Then let’s continue. I want to make you squirm. Gonna have you leaking before the night’s up.”

Shiro lets go of the bed and allows you to guide him to the headboard. You undo your belt, quickly tie his hands to the frame. He hisses as the soft pillows and sheets chafe his ruined skin, and between his legs his already red cock actually twitches.

“I saw that,” you remark.

His adam’s apple bobs.

“Dirty little thing, aren’t you.” Now that he’s immobilized you take your time, sprawling across his firm thighs, tracing fingers up the veins that pulse beneath his skin. His eyes tear from yours, hungrily following your touch as you inch closer and closer to his cock. “Such a slut for pain. Twenty smacks of a whip and you’re already begging to come.”

You perch a dainty fingertip on the tip of his cock and his gaze flickers, eyes almost rolling back from the almost-pleasure.

“You’d love me to jerk you off right here, wouldn’t you?” you begin stroking him, slow at first, and you see the tension ease out of his frame as he begins to lose himself in your movements. His breathing slowly finds its rhythm, owned by the steady up-down of your hand on his length. “You’ve been dying to get off all night.”

“Yesss,” Shiro hisses, pressing his hips against the board. _No moving,_ was the rule. He shivers, jaw going slack. How easy it is to turn him into putty with a few choice touches. You lean down and kiss the head, devious tongue snaking out to pick up the transparent pearl of precome that forms at the very slit.

You rake your teeth across the flared, sensitive head and Shiro convulses, the bedframe groaning at the sudden force. There’s something so intoxicating about seeing a powerful man twisting helplessly in your grasp. “Wanna suck you off. But I also wanna make you cry. What should I do, Shiro?”

“Both,” he whispers, hotly, giving you your favorite pair of bedroom eyes that implies both absolute surrender and absolute want. “Please, sir.”

“I love when you beg.” You give his balls a fierce twist, digging your nails into the soft skin. Shiro’s thigh jerks but you hold him down. “You _will_ be still. _Submit to me.”_

Shiro throws his head back, a tight high-pitched sound of need falling from between gritted jaws. Another dribble of precome oozes down his length and you lap it up, taking your time, making sure he can feel your entire tongue.

“Did you open yourself up for me, darling?”

“Y-yeah,” Shiro replies, losing himself as you play and fondle with his cock. “Are you gonna fuck me now?”

“Mhmm. But I’m not going to let you come.” You pick up Shiro’s favorite knobbed vibrator and hold it against his length. Shiro’s eyes snap open at the touch of cold silicone. His pupils are wide, blown out.

“Oh, gods.”

“Oh yes.”

With little warning you line the vibrator up with his waiting entrance and _push._ The puckered skin gives easily, used to nights of intrusion, and Shiro takes a shuddering breath at the overwhelming stretch. At the same time you suckle at the head of his cock and slide down, messily dribbling warm saliva down his flushed length. The overstimulation has Shiro trembling within seconds, gasping vainly for air. His scarred midriff heaves and you love the way it tenses from deep within his core.

You’re fucking him now, just as he wanted, rocking that purple vibrator in and out of him at a strict and punishing rhythm. No more gentle thrusts. You drive Shiro hard and fast, the man barely able to make any sound at all, hardly able to breathe. But whenever he opens his eyes they’re hazy and delirious and you know he’s loving every moment.

“So good,” you murmur around Shiro’s cock. The man cranes his head to look down uselessly at you.

“Thank you,” he finds himself enough to whisper, “Sir. Thank you thank you thank you. Oh, god, _fuck.”_

“Watch your language.” You pull up, give his shaft a warning nip. Shiro whines.

“God _fuck me harder._ Please. I gotta come.”

Shiro’s panting hard now, his limit rapidly approaching.

You shake your head, return to playing with his angry, impatient cock. “No. Hold it in until I let you. You were a naughty boy earlier, fucking yourself into the mattress like a dog. Without _my_ permission.”

“Please!” Shiro cries out, but you ignore him, flip the vibrator on. Shiro writhes but you use the disobedient shift of his body to quickly shove the vibrator in harder, and you know you’ve found his prostate when Shiro tenses his entire body, caught in a dilemma of _please, it’s too much_ and _please, more pleasure._

“That’s it, baby. Doesn’t it feel good?” Shiro nods, tears leaking from his eyes. His orgasm rips through him suddenly and if you weren’t already familiar with every little tick of his body you wouldn’t have had a keen enough eye to stop it — but alas for Shiro, you do. You grip him tightly by the base of his cock and haul him back from the precipice where pleasure waits. Shiro’s eyes widen as he sees your fingers nestled in that all too familiar spot.

He doesn’t even beg. He knows he’ll have no chance. He just whines his frustration, freely letting out the most lewd sounds over the muffled hum of the vibrator.

“I could keep you here for another few hours. I don’t get tired of watching you.”

More precome flows down his shaft, and this time you don’t even oblige him with a single touch.

“Maybe I’ll strap you to this bed, strap this huge vibrator inside you and tie a ribbon around your cock so you can’t come.”

Shiro closes his eyes, the last of the urge to protest finally leaking away.

You let yourself a smile, and then let yourself lower your mouth to his length again. You work yourself hard, even as you’re thrusting that plastic dildo inside Shiro’s trembling form you swallow around him over and over, coaxing him towards another sheer cliff where orgasm awaits.

“Sir, sir, please,” Shiro’s plea is nothing more than some strangled air. “So close… gotta come…”

With your lips around his cock, you wait for him to open his eyes before giving a slight nod and giving him a garbled “Alright, baby. Come for me.”

Shiro does. He comes magnificently, his orgasm full-bodied and beautiful. You can see him caress the pleasure, follow it from the tip of his spine down to his core. You swallow quickly, working down his salty come, making sure not to miss a drop.

Finally, the man comes down from his high. You slowly pull off his flaccid length, turn off the vibrator and ease it out of him, then undo the belt and let him wrap his sweaty, tired body around you.

“Gross, Shiro. At least take a shower, first. You’re all stinky—”

He tilts your chin up and kisses you, hard, teeth nipping and reclaiming you again, tongue demanding entrance to taste the remnants of his own release. His eyes are gentle, soft, fucked out, and you absolutely love this post-sex haze.

“Alright, you big lug. Aftercare time. Let me pamper you, now.” You push him down and this time he relents, flipping over on his tummy so you can rub your knuckles and palms into his tense shoulders. “Everything alright, Shiro?”

“More than,” he purrs as you work away a knot in his upper back. “You were great and I loved it.”

“I live to please.”

“Next time,” he promises, flexing the muscles on his torso because you love to watch the red marks ripple, “I’ll be the one with the whip not letting you come.”

Your throat goes dry, but you grin. “Oh, gods.”

“Oh yes.”

That’s fine with you — since next time a god will strap you down and drive you hard, and you’re alright being the sacrifice when the ritual feels so, so good.


End file.
